On detention
by ForgottenSeptember
Summary: When the Winchesters found out that monsters weren't the only ones they should be worried about. "Demons I get. People are crazy." It was a normal day at school.
1. The calm before the storm

**Good-day and Happy Holidays to everyone !**

I do not own the boys; just playin' **:**D

Warning: language and violence (don't really know yet…)

And I wanted to say English isn't my mother tongue, so I apologize beforehand for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

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**ON DETENTION  
**

When the Winchesters found out that monsters weren't the only ones to be worried about. And that mere humans could be nuts sometimes. And that trouble could happen where it shouldn't: in mere schools.

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"_I'll say it again – Demons I get. People are crazy." _Dean (The Benders)

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**Chapter 1**

**The calm before the storm **

Sam sighed. It was 15:20 pm and the fourteen years old teen was stuck in the school's study room. Not that he didn't like school, but it was slightly frustrating to have to stay in this damn stifling yet cold room, after class and a _Friday_, when it was the first really sunny day of the year, and while two girls, around sixteen or seventeen, were babbling for now half an hour about who were the handsome boys in the school. Sam sighed again as he looked at his watch once more. 15:22 pm. _Great_. Still thirty eight minutes to go. And it was him, Sam, who had to wait because his stupid, _stupid_ brother couldn't shut his mouth when needed and was now on detention. Sam wondered why Dean wasn't skipping it as usual. Maybe because their dad had got worked up at Dean the other night, saying in_ one single breathe_ that 'if you don't want to go to detention, you simply should learn not to open your mouth and talk to a teacher as if he was a fool while he is still in position to put you on detention, even if he _is_ a fool.' And maybe because Dean had heard that today, Carrie White was in detention too. And this girl was, to Dean and nearly every male's opinion, the most beautiful, the school's goddess. Even Sam himself had to admit that she was rather very pretty; the problem was that she knew it. So yeah, Sam had figured out why his jerk of a brother was so keen on going to detention this day.

Sam snapped off of his thought and tried to concentrate on what he was reading, when he heard Dean's name. _Speaking of the devil._ The teenage girls, who were sitting on a table against the far wall at his left, were now speculating about his sibling's physique.

"…this Dean guy's cute too, isn't he? The one in Mr. Torrance class?"

"Cute? Are ya kiddin'? He's one of the hottest chaps of the whole town."

"Did you saw his eyes?"

"Oh, my God, they're awesome…"

Well, _that_ was great. As if someone's _eyes_ could be _awesome_. Rolling his own eyes, Sam looked at his right and saw another girl who was writing rapidly down on a sheet. She was about Sam's age and she was wearing glasses and four earrings which two of them portrayed little green hearts. Her hair was braided and as dark as a raven. Sam peered at her a moment before he realized that it was somewhat impolite and went back to his reading. At his left, the minxes decided to compare his brother to another guy named James, who was 'totally the Mediterranean type'.

As he tried to ignore them, Sam once again glanced at his watch and let out a desperate groan. Only four minutes had passed since last time he checked.

It was so going to be a long wait.

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

Dean sighed. He was sitting in here for half an hour now and was supposed to do a whole page of exercises for his teacher, Mr. Torrance, who was himself overseeing the seven students kept in detention. Dean looked up, bored: he had barely started the second exercise. From the back of the room, where he sat, he could see Carrie White's back on the first row. He gazed at her till she turned toward him and smirked. She smiled back and faced back her copy, extensively rocking her long blond hair in the process. Dean sagged back comfortably on his chair, the tip of his tongue on his lower lip.

"Mr. Winchester! Would you mind to do what you are _presumed_ to do in detention?"

Dean was about to reply some jackass comment when his father's advice came to his brain. 'I do not need you to be all kinky on your professors while I'm hunting towns away.' So he just answered "Sorry, dude." _Okay_. Perhaps the 'dude' was too much.

Mr. Torrance bit his lips but didn't add anything. Winchester was already on detention. What else could he do? This boy was just irretrievable.

Dean exhaled noisily, earning a dark gaze from his teacher. His pen still in hand, he looked up at the clock on the wall. 15:31 pm. Of course. Why time decided to be so slow when he needed it to go on fast? Plus, this Carrie girl had wanted to stay with him after 16 pm. Sammy wasn't going to appreciate that. But a little brother could always devote himself for his eldest, right? And the geek boy loved school, so it was definitely not gonna be a problem. Reassured by his reflection, Dean smirked again, thinking about what he and miss Carrie White might do within the next hour. Hum. That was interesting too. Carrie White. Like this crazy psychopath chick in the movie. A throat's clearing noise made him glance up, and Dean saw that Mr. Torrance was staring angrily at him for what seemed a moment. But then, two boys near the window started to laugh loudly, and the professor forgot Dean to shout at them, saying "you are in detention, which means you are expected to be silent!"

Carrie turned around to face Dean while Torrance had his back on them and they exchanged smiles once more, Dean adding a wink of his own.

It was so going to be a long wait.

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

The sun was illuminating the room when dark clouds chose to place themselves in front of it, darkening the sky. Sam startled awake. Wow. How come he had fallen asleep here? Yawning, he closed the book he had used as a pillow and stretched his knotted muscles before looking around. The girls who had talked about his brother and general 'hot' men were now deliberating on varnish colors, and the glassed braided one was still writing, though she was currently yawning too. Sam rubbed his sleepy eyes and held his left wrist at eyesight. 15:48, the watch showed. So that meant he had about ten minutes of waiting. Sam smiled at that.

Behind him the door opened. He turned round to spot two large guys who must have been eighteen, maybe more. They stood at the entrance without a word. Their appearance wasn't soothing or reassuring at all to Sam and apparently, he wasn't the only one to feel it that way as the two chatting lasses shut up and glared at the newcomers.

Both gorillas stayed there without a motion or a sound for the next minutes. After almost ten minutes, Sam stood up, ready to ask them what the hell they were doing.

That's when they heard a loud thump Sam knew too well and that sent chills down his spine.

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

Dean was frustrated. He hadn't even done half of his exercises and he had less than ten minutes left. He was so going on a second round with Torrance. _Awesome._ Just his luck. Being stuck one more hour with this maniacal of the authority.

He watched the other students. The three chicks had all finished their work, while two of the three other guys were still bent over their copy, the last one slumped in his chair and chewing gum before a sheet slightly whiter than Dean's. He snorted. So much for the chicks not being more studious than boys.

**VLAM****!**

The door abruptly flew open, startling them all and a red-haired young man entered, followed by a thug-like guy. Red-haired was probably as old as Dean and seemed to be in a barely controlled rage. Mr. Torrance seemed to recognize him and said, frowning "Elliott? Elliott, what's going on?"

"You son of a bitch. I told you I was gonna kill you, I told you-" Red-haired, or rather Elliott's voice was calm yet a trifle quavering. Yet he appeared to be about to explode. "I told you I was gonna take my revenge on you."

Torrance advanced forward. "Elliott-"

"Don't move!" yelled Elliott, reaching for something in his jeans back pocket before pointed it at Torrance.

Carrie and another girl screamed; Dean gasped. In Elliott shaking hand was… a gun.

Well, if that wasn't awesome. How could a situation go so wrong so quickly? For all the detention he had skipped in his life, he had to go to the one where the crazy guy was here too with a gun. And naturally, Dean hadn't brought one of his own guns with him. He couldn't blame himself though, right? How was he supposed to know that he would need it here, in school?

"You!" Elliott was now aiming at the students. "Get up, and stand against the wall. Don't do nothing stupid an' I won't hurt you."

The scholars, including Dean, did as they were told. "Hey, pal, listen. You don't have to do that, okay?" said Dean in a still voice. "Let 'em get out, you don't need them." He then added, indicated his schoolmates.

"SHUT UP!" _Okay, he'd passed the bargaining._ Elliott's pistol aimed directly at Dean's head. "You… don't have to say _anything._"

Dean heard some intakes of breath round him as he held his palms up in an indication he had understand.

Elliott turned his gun back to Mr. Torrance, who was now in front of Carrie and a young boy not older than Sammy, and was protecting them as a shield.

At Dean's left, a petite fifteen years old chestnut-haired girl started crying and panting. Dean realized she was starting to hyperventilate. "Hey, hey, it's gonna be all right, okay?" he murmured, gently putting his hand on her shoulder. "Just breathe; everything's gonna be fine." She bored her begging eyes in his. "Now breathe with me: in… out… in…" taught Dean, breathing slowly himself. The girl's gasps slowly subsided. Dean smiled. "Good. What's your name?"

"Mina" she answered in a whisper.

"Okay Mina, I'm Dean."

Red-haired, who had watched the exchange without a word suddenly shouted. "_SHUT YOUR FREAKING MOUTHS!_"

Dean saw that the hand holding the firearm had steadied. Red-haired-Elliott seemed on the edge. Dean looked at the brute that had come in with Elliott: he hadn't budged. That's when the hunter remembered he had a small knife in his right shoe. How could he have forgotten? He had always a knife in his right shoe. Problem was he couldn't take it while Elliott had still his eyes on him.

Yet his gun was aimed at Mina, who noticed it too. Then everything happened at once. With a strangled sob Mina ran toward the exit, Elliott yelled something and shot. Torrance cried "NO!" as the blow sent Mina on the floor. She screamed in pain. Dean quickly pulled his knife out. He only had the time to toss it and perceive it jabbed itself in Red-haired upper arm as Dean heard another shot before Elliott dropped his pistol and gripped his arm, wincing.

An odd sensation was suddenly spilling in his gut. He was cold in the inside, and the lump in his throat wasn't helping his breathing. Something was wrong. Dean lowered his head to see that his hand had found its way to his belly. He felt strangely weak. He gazed at his trembling hand, now at eyesight. It was covered in blood.

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Please tell me what d'you think? Should I continue or leave it alone?

Thanks anyway for reading. **:)**


	2. Blood and Fear

**Hey!!**

I do not own the boys; just playin' **:**D

Warning: language and violence (don't really know yet…)

And I wanted to say English isn't my mother tongue, so I apologize beforehand for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

---

**Thanks for the kind reviews… it makes me happy and keeps me writing****.**

**Love y'all. :) **

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**

**ON DETENTION  
**

When the Winchesters found out that monsters weren't the only ones to be worried about. And that mere humans could be nuts sometimes. And that trouble could happen where it shouldn't: in mere schools.

---

"_I'll say it again – Demons I get. People are crazy."_ Dean (The Benders)

---

**Chapter 2**

**Blood and fear  
**

Sam froze as a second bang quickly followed the first one, leaving a weird feeling in his chest. _Gunshots. _Sam was sure of that; he had learned to shot for almost seven years now. And it sounded exactly like gunshots. And the only other people present in the school were the ones in detention. _Dean_.

"What's going on?"

Glassed-braided-girl's terrified voice drew Sam out of his torpor. He quickly regained his composure and walked toward the door. Everything was in slow motion. He had to check if his brother was all right. He was all right, was he? He gulped, trying to calm his breathing. But as he reached the door, the two colossal young men stepped in front of him.

"Stay where you are." The voice was cold. Sam's eyes widened as he saw that the man had a gun in hand. The girls who had passed their hour babbling screamed and backed away, fear written all over their face, imitated by the other girl.

Sam noticed that the other man, the one who hadn't yet spoken, had taken a dagger out. He jerked, realization hitting him: he himself had a knife. A Swiss Army Knife. It was one of his dad more important rules, 'Never be unarmed, even in your house.' In their case it wasn't really a problem: they had no house.

Sam shook his head, clearing his thought. His knife was in his bag, which was where he had left it, under the table he had occupied. Slowly, Sam headed for it.

"_Stay where you are_." The gorilla's cold voice repeated. "Or next bullet's goin' right through yer brain." Sam stopped in mid motion as he heard a 'click'. These guys weren't jesting. He carefully rejoined the scared girls, placing himself in front of them. Panic started to make his way to his brain.

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

Dean watched numbly his crimsons stained fingers. Somewhere in the coldness, he could hear the girl he had reassured earlier, Mina, sobbing and someone talking to her. So she wasn't dead. Dean looked up. Mina had a hand on her shoulder, bright red running out. Torrance was beside her. But they seemed far, _far_ away…

Suddenly, Dean found himself on the floor. The impact made him cry out and gag. And the pain exploded in his right side, before traveling in his whole body. Someone was yelling. Maybe him, maybe somebody else. Then, everything went dark and painless.

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

John Winchester sighed. He was exhausted. The hunt had taken much longer than it should have. The son of a bitch had been hiding pretty well, and then had been _fighting_ pretty well. His entire body was throbbing, and his dislocated knee hurt like hell. He would need Dean to reset it in place. He could still do it himself but right now, he had simply not the strength or the will to do so. He just wanted to sleep in a warm bed.

John felt a tear roll on his cheek. This time, he really thought he was about to catch Mary's killer. Everything seemed to fit: a bastard was killing women in their room, before sending them on fire. Nothing was left of the victims. Nothing. And John was certain it was the monster he was looking for so long. But he had been wrong. It was simply a sadistic shapeshifter who slaughtered for mere pleasure and who liked playing with fire. But he hadn't killed Mary. John had made sure that it was saying the truth. And now the thing would not murder anyone. John had made sure it died screaming in the fire itself, after the hunter had pierced it with his silver blade.

He angrily wiped the tear off his face. _Damn_. He hadn't cried in years. And now, a single hunt was making him weep? What kind of hunter did that make him? He was supposed to be strong, always strong. For his sons. They didn't need a pathetic coward as a father. His sons. Right. He needed to call Dean, pick the boys up and hitting the road. But before that, Dean would have to set his _freaking_ knee back, _'cause it freaking hurt_. John blinked. Maybe some painkillers would be good too.

He reached for his cell phone, looking for Dean's name through the contacts, which weren't much, and dialed.

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

Steven Torrance could not believe what was happening. It wasn't real, it couldn't. He was just trapped in a horribly vivid nightmare. He would wake up soon. He had to wake up soon. Yet here he was, in front of a loaded pistol. In front of Elliott. The kid had obviously lost it. And to think perhaps Elliott's acting was his fault made him sick to his stomach.

That was when a loud noise echoed around the classroom, and one of the girls fall screeching. And before he knew it he was crying "No!" _Oh God_. There was blood. He knelt beside the moaning teen, Mina, he recalled, trying to comfort her, while applying pressure on her shoulder, which made her sob louder. At the moment he turned to see what Elliott was doing, he heard another strangled scream. In a glimpse, he perceived Elliott on the floor, blood running down his arm as well from the hilt of a… _knife?_ buried in his biceps, before spinning around. His heart sank. Another student was on the ground.

"Winchester!" he shouted worriedly. The fallen boy didn't seem to hear him, lost in his pain. Positioning Mina against the wall, he crawled toward him. Winchester was as pale as a sheet, whimpers escaping his clenched jaw. Suddenly, his body went limp as his eyes rolled in the back of his head. With a shuddering breath, Torrance noticed that the youth's right side was damp with blood. _Shit, shit_. "Shit!" he said aloud, a lamp in his throat, keeping his hand pressed firmly on the wound. He couldn't think about anything except _'I already have the blood of two of my students on my hands.'_

"Get up or I swear there will be one more person bleeding to death in this room."

Torrance blenched. It wasn't Elliott's voice. He raised his head and swallowed hardly. The thug-like guy who had come in behind Elliott was now holding the gun, a nasty smile on his lips. Torrance's eyes widened at the sight of red shining on the barrel. Blood. Probably Elliott's. He glanced at the latter who was now sat, well_ more appropriately slumped_, against the professorial desk, clutching his right arm with his left, careful not to touch the handle still impaled there. Elliott's eyes were tightly shut and his face was very white too.

Gathering his courage, he looked _almost_ in Thug-like's emotionless eyes and said "You should help your friend, he's bleeding too."

Thug-like stared at him like he was nothing more than shit. "Who said the bastard was my friend?" he smiled cruelly, yet his eyes were cold and murderous. "Now get up an-"

His voice was cut off by a rock-like music, which appeared to be coming from the motionless Winchester. Torrance stopped breathing. _A cell ring tone_. He gulped. The moment he thought Thug-like was going to kill them all, the brute commanded in a dangerous voice "take it and put it on the desk."

With wobbly hands Torrance search for the still ringing phone. He found it in the boy's jeans front pocket. As he stood up, Thug-like said "Take everybody's phone. Now." Obeying, Torrance took the cells and put them on his desk. He then quickly returned to Dean's side, who was becoming restless. He whined, turning his head from side to side. Raising his firearm, Thug-like 'killed' the mobile phones. The ringing abruptly quitted, letting the room in a deafening silence. Four of the kids were sobbing quietly.

"Now, everybody who can walk, get in there." spat Thug-like, pointing with his gun the large closet behind the classroom. "Except you beauty." he said to Carrie. "You can stay here an' watch your little friends die."

For a moment, it seemed Carrie was about to try and tell that she would rather go with the others, but she glanced at Dean and Mina, both on the floor and in pain, and she nodded, terror filling her eyes as her gaze fell on the pistol.

Torrance was about to protest when he felt the rush of air an inch from his ear, before he heard another _BANG!_ He gasped. _A frigging bullet had actually passed an __inch __from his head_. A frigging _inch_.

"Do as I say. Or next bullet's heading right in the heart of one of yer beloved student."

Slowly taking a shaky breath, the teacher nodded in his turn. Once the three boys and the girl were in the closet, thug-like spoke again "Hey, Prof, don't be coward. I want ya to stay with us, can't have this pretty chick assisting their death all alone, right? And once they're dead I'll kill ya bit by bit. But I'll keep the hot girl, huh sweetheart?" he winked at a terrified Carrie who was beside an as well terrified Mina.

As he tried to control his breathing, Torrance went to Dean when his eyes started to flutter. "Hey, Dean." He said soothingly, once more pressing his already dry bloody hand on the source of the bleeding. The boy winced then panted. "Stay with me son." He saw Dean tried to speak, but he couldn't catch what. The teen needed a hospital, as well as Mina and Elliott. Torrance looked up. Elliott hadn't move from his position near the desk. He looked scared too. Torrance frowned. The big guy, Thug-like was now talking to someone he couldn't see at the door. He looked at his watch. 16:17 pm.

At this instant, they heard sirens in the distance. Thug-like looked up and smirked. "Huh. Looks like the cops are here…"

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Oh, and MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! I know it's a little late but I had to say it! *iz giving lots of pretty presents*


	3. Stay with me

**Hello people!**

I do not own the boys; just playin' **:**D

Warning: language and violence (now I'm sure…^^)

And I wanted to say English isn't my mother tongue, so I apologize beforehand for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

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**Thanks again for the reviews. You guys are awesome!**

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**

**ON DETENTION  
**

When the Winchesters found out that monsters weren't the only ones to be worried about. And that mere humans could be nuts sometimes. And that trouble could happen where it shouldn't: in mere schools.

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"_I'll say it again – Demons I get. People are crazy."_ Dean (The Benders)

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**Chapter 3**

**Stay with me**

John swore under his breath. Why the hell wasn't Dean answering the damn phone? He vowed if his son was strutting with a girl, the boy will so have extra training at 5:00 am. And maybe it was time to buy Sam a cell. Maybe him will be more reachable. Hum. He really shouldn't count on that. The boy did everything he could to piss his old father off. John smiled bitterly, realizing last time he had talk to Sammy they had put up a fight. He didn't even remember about what they had been arguing. Something about school and hunt and "I'll never be like you!" and some other _sweet_ things about the life they led. The hunter groaned sadly.

John dialed Dean again but this time, he directly fell on the messaging. "I swear Dean, if you're shutting me down because of some kind of hot chicks…" muttered John, letting his threat hanging in the air. His damn knee still throbbed painfully._ 'Well that was an understatement.'_ he thought resentfully. He wondered about it a moment, and, leading at a conclusion, he stooped the car on the shoulder of the road. John got his legs off of the wheels. Grunting loudly as the action jarred his damaged knee. He then took a deep breath, clenched his jaw and resettled the frigging aching thing in place. His scream was lost in the deserted vicinity as he blinked against the dark spots clouding his sight.

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

Everything was black. Or maybe it was white. His body weighed tons albeit it felt feathery at the same time. However this everything was fading and he was then empty in the emptiness, nothing in the nothingness. Nonetheless, a droning sound was gradually making its way to his hearing. He tried to concentrate on the humming and anyhow, part of him, part of his naught, understood it was a voice. Yet he couldn't comprehend the meaning behind those words, neither the words themselves as a dull and dreary twinge came along them, constant. Progressively, the twinge became ache, which even more slowly became fire. The vacuum was replaced by fire. The everything was fire. He was fire. He could feel his body once again, he could feel pain once again. The voice became more and more insistent too. But it was still drowned in the burning fire. He tried to escape it. He couldn't. The fire was devouring him. And suddenly, it exploded. It was short yet deafening.

"Do as I say." A voice, coming from nowhere.

He knew this statement. Dad often used it. But it wasn't dad. Dad didn't have this tone of voice even when he was giving him the order or was having an argument with Sammy. Sammy? Where was Sammy? Why couldn't he open his eyes? He needed to see. He didn't want to be blind. And he didn't want to stay here with none other companion than fire.

Someone had said his name. At the same time, the fire centered somewhere in his right side. Attempting to forget the pain, he focused on the voice, oblivious to all further sensation.

"Stay with me son."

He had to answer to the worried, the almost pleading tone.

"Dad? Where am I?" Strange. He hadn't heard his own voice, although he was sure he had moved his lips. The fire had subsided, a sharp pain taking hold only in his side. Another sound was coming from above him, yet seemingly far away. The volume rolled up and down then up again like a poorly tuned radio, lulling him. He quit the fight to open his eyes. Someone said something somewhere. He heard footsteps. Someone else was leaving. Then the worried voice spoke again.

"Dean, can you open your eyes?"

He didn't want to. It was good here. His body wasn't hurting anymore.

"Dean, can you hear me? This boy needs a hospital!"

He frowned. Something in his dad's voice was off. The quality wasn't his. It was freaked out. And his dad did not freak out.

"Shut yer pie hole or he won't need hospital no more when I'll be done with 'im." A foreign voice. Cold. Threatening.

He opened his eyes. A face was above him but it was blurred and faint. The lips moved and the same concerned voice talked again. He didn't hear what it said. The pain was making itself known once more, thought less than before.

His sight was adjusting as he looked at his surrender. The man near him wasn't dad. He recognized him as one of his teachers. A vague of despair went through him. He had hoped dad was going to make it all alright. His gaze then fell on two girls on the floor and the blood on their hands. And he remembered. The detention, Carrie, Mina, the red-haired psycho, the shots and then… nothing.

All of a sudden there was some sort of agitation in the corridor. A girl, then a second, and a third came in, looking frightened. Lastly another figure was shoved inside the room. A familiar one. Dean straightened the most he could on his elbows, the teacher's hand pushing gently on his chest to keep him from sitting.

"Sammy?"

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

John was mumbling angrily. Dean still hadn't answered the damn phone. And his knee still hurt but at least he could now move it without bringing more pain. He didn't remember if he had been unconscious after playing the apprentice and dummy surgeon. He had just… taken off. Perhaps a few seconds, perhaps minutes. He only knew that he was now heading to the town he had left the boys, and that Dean really should have a good justification for not responding to his upset father's calls if he didn't want to do pumps during the whole night.

As he parked the Impala in front of the motel, knocked at the room door once, twice before he smashed it because of the lack of responses, swearing loudly as the pain in his knee woke up in the process, he had to face the fact: his sons weren't home. _Well if he could named this shabby crappy motel room a home_. So where were they? John's anger scaled a notch, while his worry climbed up ten at once.

At this moment, two police cars and an ambulance passed down the road, sirens blazing. He didn't know where to look for the boys, so he opted to take the car and follow the rapid vehicles.

Once they stopped, John realized they were in front of a school. _Wait_. That was the school his _children_ were in. He swallowed convulsively and approached two women who were talking with wide eyes. One of them had a hand on his agape mouth.

"…taken several students and even teachers in hostages. Said they've already killed some of them…"

John swallowed again. Was one of his sons in there? Both? What would he do if they were of the ones killed by these mad guys? _Oh God_. What was he supposed to do?

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

It was taking all of Sam willpower to not panic. The gun was aimed at him, the panicked girls still behind his outstretched arms. One of the bastards had gone earlier. Sam had tried to speak to the remained one but his attempts had all confronted a muted silence. He had kept it up until the last one had earned a bullet right between his feet. Sam was now wondering how he would get out of this one when he heard heavy steps from the corridor. The second guy, the one with the dagger, was coming back. As if on cue, the door brutally opened and he entered.

"Norman wants 'em in there." he said to his fellow.

The latest nodded and turned toward the hostages. "Okay, girls, time to move." He looked at Sam. "You big-mouth, get in the front."

"Where are we going?" asked Sam defiantly.

"Don't ask questions and you'll see by yourself." was the aggressive reply.

Sam bit his lip and looked one last time at his bag, his knife still into it, and started walking in silence. As they ascended a flight of stares, they encountered the school's headmistress. Dead. She was slumped on her back on top of the stairs, head down. She was staring at them with empty wide eyes. A red hole was drawn right between them. Her hair was bathing in her blood, which was slowly descending steps by steps.

A loud cry drew Sam's eyes out of this morbid scene, and he turned round to see one of the girls took a step back, forgetting she was on stairs. She fell down the stairs and collapsed on the level below, crying, sobbing and gasping.

Knife-Guy looked down at her. "Get up now if ya don't wanna look like her." he said pointing at the lifeless headmistress.

The girl got up, crying louder, almost hysterically. Pistol-guy descended the lasts steps between them and backhanded her in the face.

"Shut. Your. _Fucking_. Maw."

The girl silenced, weeps still jolting her body.

"Now everybody move." said Knife-guy, without looking at the body, a strange look in his eyes. Sam was stunned. Was that… _fear?_

They scaled one more stair, went through another corridor, passed the directorial office.

"Stop." said pistol guy. "Get in there." He commanded, indicating a classroom at their right. He looked at the maids and added with a smirk "After you." The girls stepped inside one after the other.

Sam gulped. "What are you doing?"

Instead of giving him an answer, Pistol-guy shoved him roughly inside the room. As Sam landed on all fours with a muttered curse, he heard a weak yet well-known voice.

"Sammy?"

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Yes! The bros are finally together!

Well, thank you for reading!

Reviews, please?


	4. Being held hostage

**H****ey! **Well, once more,

I do not own the boys; just playin' **:**D

Warning: language and violence.

And I wanted to say English isn't my mother tongue, so I apologize beforehand for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

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**Wow, it's been a while!**** Life has been crazy lately. And it's snowing here! *iz happy* =)**

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**ON DETENTION  
**

When the Winchesters found out that monsters weren't the only ones to be worried about. And that mere humans could be nuts sometimes. And that trouble could happen where it shouldn't: in mere schools.

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"_I'll say it again – Demons I get. People are crazy."_ Dean (The Benders)

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**Chapter 4**

**Being held hostage**

"Sammy?"

Dean couldn't believe his eyes. He didn't want to. His baby brother couldn't be here, now. The room was full of crazy psychopaths, and he couldn't protect him in the state he was in. Holding his breath against the pain, Dean pushed Torrance's hand aside and straightened in an almost sitting position with the help of the wall behind him.

Sam looked up toward his brother when he heard his voice and all color left his skin at once.

Dean was slumped against the far wall, just below the window. His belly was covered in blood, a scarlet puddle already forming under him. His teacher was beside him, trying to press one hand on the wound to try and slow the bleeding down, despite Dean's attempt to prevent him from doing so. His brother's face was pale but his eyes seemed to light up when he saw his brother. They looked at each over a full second, before another man, who also had a gun in hand, spoke.

"Ladies." he said sneering and leering the new comers. "Get in there."

_Norman_, Sam guessed. He was built like the two gorillas that had been with Sam and the girls since the shots they heard. And apparently, one of these shots had been for his brother. Sam's worry became anger barely restrained. _They had shot his brother!_ Glancing round him, he saw that two other teenagers were bleeding on the floor. A girl and an older boy. His eyes widen as he recognized the girl as Mina. She was his sitting beside him in biology class. Contrariwise, Sam had never seen the red-haired young man but as he looked more closely, he perceived Dean's knife buried below his shoulder. _Oh_. So he was one of the bad guys.

Sam realized Norman was now talking to him. "That means you too, goofy."

"What?"

"Get in there"

"No! I'm staying here!" replied Sam furiously. "He's bleeding, I'm staying with him."

"You are?"

"Yes, I am." Sam said, trying to appear braver than he really felt.

"Sammy..." _Dean's voice_. Sam clenched his jaw, a lump forming in his throat.

Suddenly, Norman lifted his gun and aimed it at Dean. "And what will ya do if I kill him here and now?"

Now Sam was really panicking. "Please I'll do what you- just please don't-" He placed himself between Dean and the threat. Anguish was making his voice shaking. _How could this happen?_

Without warnings, Pistol-guy, the one who had bring them here, caught Sam and tried to drag him to the closet where he had just shut the three girls in. Reacting instinctively, Sam threw his fist to Pistol-guy jaw. And before he knew how, he was himself on the floor, Pistol-guy being way too faster than Sam had expected him to be, considering his size. As he tried to get up, Pistol-guy kicked him hard on the ribs.

"No! Stop!" Dean cried as loud as he could. His fear for his little brother made him forget his own pain.

Sam used his leg to hit the ruffian below the knee, unbalancing him and giving the young Winchester the time to stand up. Sam punched him twice before ending up on the floor once more, Pistol-guy using his gun as a baseball bat. Protecting his face with his hand, Sam could here people around him cry and shout. The blows were getting harder and he screamed as his left arm broke in a loud _crac_. He opened his eyes to see a boot heading right to his face and closed them again, bracing himself. But it never came. Sam looked up and saw that his big brother had tackled Pistol-guy on the ground. Sam screamed again when Dean was harshly thrown away. Pistol-guy stood up and kicked the elder Winchester in the gut. Dean didn't even make a sound. He didn't move either. He just stayed there, huddled in a ball on the cold floor. Now on all four, Sam was ready to charge the man hurting his brother when Norman came in front of him, aimed his gun right between Sam's eyes…

And pulled the trigger.

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

John was getting more and more restless. His last calls had still landed him on Dean's messaging at once. Now he was sure: both his boys were trapped in the edifice, maybe hurt or… worse. _Don't go there,_ John admonished to himself. The police had had a conversation on the phone with the bad guys' leader, but apparently, that had lead them nowhere. The men holding his sons and the other people hostages didn't want to bargain. They simply threatened to kill everyone in there if the cops did one wrong move. They were there just for _fun_. For the pleasure to kill some helpless students.

That was the problem. Dean and Sam _weren't_ helpless. They were both armed and John trained them very hard and well. His boys were extremely competent for their age, John was sure of that. He was also very proud of them, although he wouldn't say that to them. He simply didn't know how to tell things like that. But he _was_ proud. Dean had been hunting for more than four years, now. John was taking him on hunts during school holidays, sometimes even when his firstborn was supposed to be at school. (which made Dean really happy, as he was sure than 'saving people and hunting things' was a lot more useful than going to the 'geeky's house'. Which made Sam frown and sulk.) On the other hand, Sammy had hunt for the first time, short of simple Salt&burns, last summer. A werewolf. And his son had been amazing. Though Dean had been a little more preoccupied about 'protecting Sammy' than 'killing the sucker'.

John smiled at the memory, before remembering, painfully, that the boys were being held hostage. _Hostages!_ How was that even possible?

It's seemed unbelievable to John that he could face a Werewolf, a ghost, or any other dire creature with a smirk, and being absolutely incapable to know what to do or to even stay calm when his sons were dealing with a mere human. But there was the matter: humans were unpredictable and crazy. If they wanted to hurt other folk, they just did. And John felt useless, staying here idly when the only persons that really matter to him were in danger in some madmen's claws.

Unexpectedly, a loud _Bang!_ clattered above their head, and a yellow light appeared through several windows.

John realized at once what it was, and he froze on the spot. _Oh God, no_.

Fire.

A fire was freaking strolling around, and his sons were about to dance with it…

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Sorry, this one was short, but I wanted it to stop there.

Anyway, it's snowing outside! Hadn't happen for years in this town! I'm gawking like a baby at those big snowflakes. ;) And because of all the snow, we can arrive at school when we want or don't go at all! (But I'm going because I'm a serious student. Yes I am… Well, almost.) ^^


	5. Dance with the fire

**Hi guys!**

I do not own the boys; just playin' **:**D

Warning: language and violence and gory.

And I wanted to say English isn't my mother tongue, so I apologize beforehand for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

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**T****hanks to everyone for reading it so far :)**

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**ON DETENTION  
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When the Winchesters found out that monsters weren't the only ones to be worried about. And that mere humans could be nuts sometimes. And that trouble could happen where it shouldn't: in mere schools.

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"_I'll say it again – Demons I get. People are crazy."_ Dean (The Benders)

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**Chapter 5**

**Dance with ****the fire**

Seeing the gun right in front of him, Sam held his breath, waiting for the unavoidable… but instead of the deafening noise and the white hot pain he was expecting, he heard a 'click'. _Click? _Sam opened his eyes, but still didn't dare to breathe. How many were his chances that the firearm supposed to kill him jammed? Looking at Norman's eyes, he saw that they were filled with confusion. A second later, they flashed deep anger, and Sam just had the time to release a shaky whiff, before the gun connected with the side of his head. Everything went starry, and then the stars extinguished themselves one by one, letting for the darkness to take its hold.

Professor Torrance had watched the exchange between the boy – 'Sammy' Dean had called him – and the swine with a blend of fear, uncertainty and admiration at his courage. Then, as the big man started to beat him, Torrance had been even more stunned at the youth responded blow. But when the boy had ended heavily on the floor, he had cried and shouted like everyone for the brute to stop, and he had released his hold on Dean. Obviously, that was all Winchester needed as he crawled toward Pistol-guy, and, with all the energy he hadn't seconds before, pushed the crazy man away from his brother, falling on the ground with him.

Dean couldn't see anymore as he was ruthlessly shoved aside, the pain in his whole body blinding him. He felt Pistol-guy lash harder blows on his torso, and all Dean could do was curl on himself, waiting for the overwhelming hurt to claim his consciousness, which he let go gratefully, hoping Sammy would be okay.

Pistol-guy had stopped kicking Dean, who laid now inert and whizzing at his feet, when it dawn on him that Norman had tried – and failed – to kill Sam. He now waited nearly shyly, apparently having some doubt on what to do next.

A subtle throat's clearing took them all out of their stupor. The guy with a knife was standing in front of the door. "Norman, the phone's ringing in the office over there," he said, pointing at the dead headmistress's bureau. "I think it's the cops."

Norman swore, tossed his useless gun, gave the two fallen Winchesters and the other persons present another hatred glance and went out, swearing again.

Once he had disappeared, the room was only filled with muffled yell and sirens coming from behind the closed windows.

**~w****wwwwwwwww~**

Dean woke up in a spirt, the ongoing ache making itself known once more. Someone had rolled him on his back and was applying some pressure on his belly. He whined.

"Dean?" The word had no meaning to his ears. Was someone speaking to him?

Dean realized that beside his right side, the pain had completely left his body, leaving him somewhat wafting. But a more important thought crossed his mind.

"Sa'mmmy…" he slurred, his eyes still closed. "Wheeere?" Dean swallowed dryly. Even his tongue felt numb.

"Dean? You're with me?" Dean frowned. That was not Sammy. Yet he was sure last time he had been awake, his little brother had been with him.

Dean shifted a little, biting back a moan. The bed definitely was the least comfortable he'd been sleeping on. Opening his eyes proved itself to be a difficult task, but once he succeed in it, Dean's mind couldn't comprehend the sight before him. Desks and chairs? How the hell had he ended up sleeping in a classroom? The last thing he remembered was… being in a classroom. Dean closed his eyes again, trying to think properly. Strange how this seemed to be impossible. Anyway, his thought brought him back to the main problem at hand.

"Sam?"

"Hey, Dean, calm down. Sammy's right here." Dean looked up at the man who was talking to him. The young hunter recognized his features, but he couldn't recall where he had seen him. Instead he turned his head in the direction the man shown him, and his already uneven breathing hitched even more. Sam was indeed right here, in arm reach and lying motionless, his head crooked to the side, facing Dean.

Voices were coming from the corridor, muffled by the closed door. "…I mean, they're cops, Norman. How 'r we goin' to get out of this one?"

"Chill out. We'll go out."

"How? When?"

"Stop talkin'." That was an order.

Before Dean could do anything, a big man entered the room, followed by a 'knifed' chap, a satisfied smile on his lips. Dean remembered him. He was one of the madmen. They named him… Robert? Nigel? No…

"Norman?" Oh, right. That was Norman. Dean looked at the young man who had just said the name and his anger and hatred flared at once. He knew him. He was the one that had beaten the crap out of Sam. Pistol-guy. Dean was so going to make him pay for that…

Without a word, Norman headed right toward a slightly nervous Pistol-guy and yanked the pistol off his hands. Pistol-guy – now without pistol – flinched but Norman's smile grew wider, and he turned to look at where Torrance sat hovering Dean and he aimed the gun at the unconscious Sam.

"So." he said. "Where were we?"

Dean straightened, pushing his teacher's hands away. "Don't." He draggled and stopped in front of Sam. "You don't touch him or I swear, I will rip you limb from limb." He knew the threat wouldn't really be convincing due to the current state he was in but that certainly wouldn't prevent him from saying it anyway.

Norman just grinned and slowly aimed at Dean. But before he could do anything more, another voice rose from several feet away.

"Don't." it said, matching Dean's word.

Dean startled. He had utterly forgotten the young red-haired man leaned against the main desk, knees to the chest. Gazing at him, Dean took in the shivers jolting his body, and the hilt of his own knife buried in his biceps. Apparently, Dean wasn't the only one who had been oblivious of – Elliott, right? –, judging from the others reaction. Norman lifted his eyebrows in amused surprise. "Sorry?" he said politely.

"Norman, please, I…" Elliott seemed to be in shock, his eyes lightly glassy and unfocused and pleading. "Please Norman… I didn't want to kill…"

"But, pal, ya were the one that wanted to go an' kill 'im." Norman cut off, indicating Torrance, a faint look of misunderstanding across his features.

"No, I didn' wan' to go this far… Norman, it – I was pissed off… Please…"

Norman let out a loud laugh. A scary, cold laugh, devoid of any joy. "Then I guess ya made a mistake when ya asked me to come with ya. 'Cos ya're so pathetic ya 'adn't have the gut to do it all alone, ain't ya?" And moving so fast that nobody had the time to react or do as much as blink, Norman sent a bullet tearing through Elliott's throat.

Elliott's eyeballs widened in towering fear and horror as ugly sickly gurgled erupted from his ravaged gullet.

Sobs and gasps echoed around the room; Torrance whispered "Oh my god", the words choking and dying before they left his lips; and Dean shut his eyes in sorrow. He hated and felt so useless when a human died in front of him, even if it was the human who had shot him. He was trying to swallow around the lump in his own throat, when he heard movement behind him. _Sam_. As Dean looked at his baby brother, he could only notice Sam's wide eyes which were staring fixedly, his lips trembling, at Elliott slumped form. The faint wheezes were fading and soon, Elliott's extremities stopped twitching altogether.

The man who was still holding a knife exclaimed "Shit, Norman! Oh, shit you killed him…"

"What's the problem?" asked Norman, as if they were talking about the bad weather.

The other seemed to regain his composure. "No–nothin'. You killed him." He said the last part as a matter of fact.

With a knowing smirk, the crazy man turned back to face the Winchester. As he opened his mouth to say something, a loud sob came from where the two girls –Mina, who was still bleeding, and Carrie – currently in the room who seemed like they were trying to disappear through the floor. Carrie put her hand on Mina's mouth a moment too late to muffle the sound. Both girls looked up to Norman, terrified.

Norman let out another chilling laugh, and aimed his gun at Mina who was now whimpering and pushing against the wall behind her, desperately attempting to escape an additional gunshot that mostly may be fatal.

With a rage filled yell, Torrance threw himself at Norman, effectively yanking the gun from his hand. The firearm fell on the floor, and a shot rang out, the bullet barely missing Carrie and going right through the window above her head, showering glass on the two young women.

Furious, Norman punched the teacher, breaking his nose, and stood up, heading for the gun.

"Norman… wait." said the one with a knife. Seeing Norman's expression he hastily added "Don't ya smelled that?" Norman lifted his head to look at the ceiling and the walls, sniffing the air. Dean, who had passed an arm around Sam's shoulders, careful with his broken arm, smelled it too. He exchanged with Sam worried gazes. _Gas_. Norman obviously scented it too because he angrily asked Now-without-pistol-guy:

"When ya shot that woman downstairs, where'd the bullet end up?"

"Er–"

Torrance cut him off. "Downstairs? There's the chemistry lab downstairs!" Their three captors glared at him. Torrance continued "We have to leave! If the bullet went through some gas pipes or something around the lab, that might explode! We gotta go!" he was now shouting in anguish, a hand on his nose to rein in the blood flow.

As if on cue, a very loud bang thundered and everything quaked, sending the ones standing on their knees and hands. A portion of the floor near the blackboard collapsed. Gradually, the spinning subsided in a reek of rubbles and dust, but the scent of gas was at present evident, along with a fierce odor of parch.

"_SHIT!_" yelled Knife-guy, who had dropped his knife and was now looking as terrified as the hostages. "Norman! We hafta get out! NOW!"

"You go if ya wanna chat with the fucking dicks out there, Ben," replied Norman irately, searching for his gun among the grime. Said Ben seemed to hesitate. On the other hand, Now-without-pistol-guy, still on all fours, crawled toward the exit and disappeared in the corridor. Torrance had run to where Carrie and Mina sat frightened.

In the total disorder, Ben stole a reticent glance at the closet where half a dozen of screaming student were still confined in. He then headed toward the door. As he reached it, he paused once more, glancing at the keys on a desk that had three legs through the floor.

Both brothers had succeeded in getting up. "Your arm?" asked Dean. Only the adrenaline gave him the strength to stood, but talking really was too much of an effort.

"It's okay; just broken," Sam answered, wincing. "You?" Dean nodded, forcing a smile on his lips for Sammy's sake.

"We have to get those people out," said Sam, giving a worried look at the closet and around. Noticing Ben's hesitation, he shouted "_HEY!_" Without thinking further, Ben tossed him the keys, and ran out. Sam caught them and hastily unlocked the door. "Come on!" he uttered at the student. "Get out, be careful in the stairs!" One by one, they left the room. That's when a fire engulfed the area. "Son of a bitch." huffed Sam, stealing his brother's favorite expression.

Meanwhile, Torrance had lifted Mina in his arm and was making his way, bypassing the flames, to the exit, Carrie right behind him. As Sam started to follow them, he peeked behind his back and stopped dead in his tracks. Dean was heavily leaning, yet still standing, against a window. His eyes were tightly shut, sweat covering his trembling limbs.

That's when the younger hunter heard a strangled cry from the other end of the classroom. Norman had apparently abandoned his research for the gun and had gripped Carrie's arm. Quickly looking around, Sam noted that Torrance and Mina weren't in here anymore.

"Ya sweetheart, ya're staying with me," was slurring Norman. "I wan' to 'ave some fun with ya." He then kissed her roughly, biting her lips. She screamed and tried to back away.

"_HEY!_" roared Sam again.

And, out of the blue, the room exploded.

Sam only had the time to drop under the nearest table, and everything just blew up. The blast sent him against the far wall and for the second time this day, Sam saw nothing but stars. Closing his eyes firmly, waiting for the black and bright spots to fade away, he realized he couldn't hear anything, except for an incessant and sickening ringing. His entire body was aching. Sam lifted his eyelids, but the smoke and the fire were the only things he could discern. Blinking rapidly, he made out the motionless forms of Norman and Carrie. Getting up laboriously on trembling legs, he fell again at once and, on all four, he made his way coughing and gasping toward them. Norman was moving feebly, moaning. His face was a bloody mess, his left ear was missing. Something resembling to a half a cabinet was lying on his legs, crushing them. Turning his gaze to Carrie, Sam gagged and threw up the content of his stomach. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, feeling suddenly very weak. Yet he couldn't resist the morbid urge to look again at the poor girl. He almost heaved again.

Carrie's eyes were wide open, unseeing. Her visage was even more gory than Norman's; her jaw was hanging loosely on the side, a stream of blood pooling around her head, forming a gruesome halo. Her left hand was resting right above her heart, and her chest was a shining crimson, a multitude of deep cuts covering it. Her right forearm had been wrenched from the rest of the body at the elbow and was now inches away, half buried under a reversed table.

Tearing his burning eyes off the horrific scene, Sam looked up, searching comfort from his big brother. His heart sank and then ascended to his throat, stealing his breathing. Instead of the brotherly reassurances he was waiting for was… a hole.

Sam couldn't move. The frigging wall had just disappeared, and so had his brother. The heat was intensifying, but the youngest Winchester couldn't care less. The only thing that was registering in his brain was the absence of Dean.

Abruptly, Sam could anew find his voice. "_Dean_." It was nothing more than a terrified whisper. Oblivious to the growing flames, Sam advanced in slow motion toward the spot where his sibling and the wall had been a minute ago, and looked down.

Dean was there, three stores below, lying somehow almost graciously on the cemented ground, red and glistening blood surrounding his broken body. Fragments of the wall and shards of glass were spread all around him. But all Sam could see, even at this height, was the rivulet of blood making its way between Dean's slightly parted lips, and his closed eyelids.

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So, d'you like it? ^^


	6. As the flames met the stars

**Hey****, I'm back ! So, as ever, **

I do not own the boys. I'm just playin' ^^

Warning: language and violence.

And I wanted to say English isn't my mother tongue, so I apologize beforehand for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

Sorry, I really took my time for this one… but I had some computer troubles (it died on me twice! How the hell did that happen ?) and I lost the whole chapter T_T … Kinda frustrated me but hey, I finally found the time to rewrite it so here it is! ^^

Anyway, thanks a bunch for you people who are still reading… :)

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**O****N DETENTION**

When the Winchesters found out that monsters weren't the only ones to be worried about. And that mere humans could be nuts sometimes. And that trouble could happen where it shouldn't: in mere schools.

"_I'll say it again – Demons I get. People are crazy."_ Dean (The Benders)

**Chapter ****6**

**As**** the flames met the stars**

"…_Several gunshots were heard earlier this afternoon and a fire is now spreading inside McKinley High School. The headmistress, three teachers and at least ten students, maybe more, are still being held hostage in the now burning building. The motive for the attack is still unknown. The authorities are still spe_–"

The journalist's casual yet professional voice was suddenly cut off as another explosion, ten folds louder than the first one, boomed above the crowd. Debris rained down on them as everybody tried to run out of the way, shouting, screaming.

For an instant, John couldn't hear or see anything. He suddenly found himself on the ground, breathing hard, the stabbed-like ache in his knee waking up fiercely and making him bit back a low pain-filled growl.

And he saw him. The dust has slightly dissipated, and his eyes just fell on him.

Dean was lying in the middle of the chaos, his face turned toward John, his right arm stretched out in the same direction as if he was trying to reach his father. Oblivious of the turmoil surrounding him. Motionless. Lifeless. And John couldn't feel pain traveling in his body anymore, couldn't take his eyes off his fallen soldier, his fallen son. He couldn't take in air anymore.

Some paramedics seemingly coming out of nowhere were at Dean's side the moment they didn't risk getting knocked out by some random piece of wall, assessing his condition, checking if he was even still alive. That's when John heard it: these two words that hit him like a trunk at full speed.

"No pulse."

The medics' lips continued to move but everything seemed now to be stuck in slow motion as John could only hear, over and over in his head _"__no pulse, no pulse, no pulse…" _He was deaf to any other sounds as he watched those strangers trying to save his son, his flesh, his blood. His _boy_.

And it struck him. His boy was dying - already dead - right here, before his very eyes.

But _that_ wasn't even a possibility – it couldn't – and he was shouting and punching at the cops trying to hold him before he knew it, before he even could think that he – John Winchester, the tough and fearless hunter – was begging.

"NO! He's my _son_, you sonsabitches! _He's my son_! Let me– Dean! _Please_!"

There was so much blood…

"_DEAN!_"

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

Thirty-five feet above, Sam couldn't breathe either, his lips unconsciously chanting a litany of _no, no, no, no,_ as what has to be medics surrounded Dean's inert form. The ever-present buzzing in his ears was numbing his brain, and he was about to jump right behind his brother in order to be at his side when something bright and yellow caught his gaze. Sam suddenly realized he was hot – no, he was freaking boiling! – and he _really_ wasn't able to breathe. Smoke was everywhere, making him cough harshly as the unshed tears that had appeared in his eyes upon seeing Dean's dead – no, no, unconscious – body, now freely run down his sweaty and suit covered cheeks. He tasted their salty flavor, and snapped out of his stupor with a start.

He had to get out of here.

_Use the stairs. _That voice was Dean's. _Don't do something stupid_.

Nodding absentmindedly, Sam turned around and ran toward the door, or what remained of it. The flames were everywhere. As he keep on running, trying to avoid being cooked right away, Sam tried not to sob as he recalled what his dad told him only once, and what Dean never said anything about: Mom died in a fire. A fire just like this one. And he was about to die just the same way his mom did. But maybe then he'll see her again. Dean too. Oh, god. Dean was–

Lost in his desultory thoughts, and because of all the fire's brightness and the thick smoke, he didn't see the flight of stairs coming. Before he knew how or why, he was falling. Well more appropriately he was crumbling, along with a good portion of the stairs as it collapsed under his weight. He cried out in surprise and ended up in a heap one floor below, the impact knocking the air out of his damaged, smoke-filled lungs. When the poor air came back to his starving lungs, he let out a new scream of agony. If until then he wasn't sure whether his arm was broken or not, now he was absolutely certain, if the pain was any indication. Coughing, he opened his teary eyes and immediately crawled back with another shout, this one horror-filled, cradling his injured limb in his lap. One of the big guys – Ben – was half buried under the debris. Or rather, utterly crushed. And dead. Sam let out a strangled sob, once again thinking about Dean, and he swallowed convulsively against a new wave of nausea.

As he could not find the strength to get on his legs one more time, he crawled down the remaining steps cautiously, fearing that it might give up from under him once more, the fact that he could only use one arm slowing him down even more. The flames and the heat and the burning-alive-feeling increased impossibly. The smoke-filled air but mainly the tears in his eyes were blurring his sight, his breath was shallow even as he tried to take in a decent breath, sobs coming out instead every now and then.

He looked up, and was surprised to see someone, in the middle of the stairs. Someone _alive_. And weeping. Mina was curled on herself, oblivious of everything going on around her.

"Mina." He said amid the harsh coughs. "Mina…"

She raised her head to look at him, or more exactly, through him, her eyes unfocused and confused.

"Mina," a cough "where's Torrance?"

Mina just shook her head, apparently unable to form any word.

So he was dead too. Just like Dean… _NO!_ Something screamed in his mind. A new wave of unsuspected strength and will caught up with him. He griped Mina's hand tightly and hauled her on her feet, grunting between clenched teeth as his arm reminded him that it was wounded. Hand in hand, they ran for their life, the fire chasing them.

_For Dean,_ Sam kept repeating himself,_ for Dean, for Dean, please let him be alive, please_…

They were now in the main hall, the exit on the other side of the large room. Problem was: an even larger and fiery wall of fire was between them and the promise of smoke-free air outside.

And Mina just snapped out of her stupor, right then. She burst in hysterical sobs, panicking.

"The exit's _there_! Oh my god!_ It's the exit_! What – what are – no… No, no, please no…"

"We just gotta – gotta find another one!" yelled Sam as he tried to get through the panicked girl. "Mina, please…" He doubled over, the coughs getting the better of him. And once more he couldn't see, or hear or even _feel, _except for the pain in his chest. That was the only thing his brain could register. He hurt, he hurt, he hurt… His exhausted body, unable to hold him any longer, gave up on him, and for the countless time since all this started, he was on his hands and knees on the unforgiving floor. But, _damn,_ he hurt… he just wanted this to stop. He just wanted everything to stop… So when darkness came to claim him, he welcomed it, not caring about anything else, the last thought his hazy mind was able to form being _Dean_…

**~wwwwwwwwww~**

John let out a desperate, frustrated and raged-filled growl, sounding like a caged wild animal. But he didn't care. They had taken him away from his sight. They had taken Dean away from him. They wouldn't listen when he said he was his father. They wouldn't let him approach. He didn't even know if he was still alive, or if he was already in a body bag, heading for the morgue. Hell, he didn't know _squat_!

And where was Sammy? Where was his youngest boy? At some point the night had fallen; the ravenous blaze, which now engulfed the school almost entirely, illuminating the dark sky, despite the firemen's efforts to slow it down. Was Sammy still inside the burning building? Had he been killed in the fire? Just like Mary had?

That's when it hit him. He was all alone. Mary was gone, forever. And, for all he knew, so were his sons. _God_… What was he supposed to do now? Had he failed Mary? If both his boys were dead, now, what would he live for? Revenge? What was he supposed to do? Why wasn't he there when his boys needed him? The answer came easily. He had been away for their own good. Near them, because of the hunt, he was a danger to them. They were safer without him…

_John, you're lying to yourself_.

His kids weren't safe, they weren't… they would never be…

"Mary, I'm so sorry…" he whispered as the flames met the stars, shining in his dull and gloomy eyes.

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Hope it wasn't that bad ... and again, sorry for the (very) long delay... :)


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